


Where were you?

by AauntyPasta



Category: Blue Bloods (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 10:47:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18342107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AauntyPasta/pseuds/AauntyPasta
Summary: Sean’s history project is to film interviews with ten people to see where they were on 9/11 so he interviews his family for some of the interviews and interviews people that he knows at random for the rest.





	Where were you?

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on another site, but this version is complete and corrected to reflect that Eddie's mom is alive. I also added an epilogue I had been wanting to add for quite some time.

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Monday, August 28, 2017

Parker Ryan placed a card face down on each desk as she waited for the bell to ring. When it did, and the students began to file in, she began her lecture.

“Do not,” she began as she passed out the instruction sheets for a new assignment. “I repeat NOT turn over the cards on your desk until I explain what we will be doing.”

As they began to settle and the bell rang a second time, she cleared her throat. “History, as you know, is the study of past events, particularly in human affairs. We will be studying dates, places and happenings that are a part of history as a whole, but I want you to remember that history is also the individual stories.”

“So what are we doing?” asked Julie Babcock.

“We will be doing presentations. Writing reports or making videos to help tell the stories.” Mrs. Ryan explained. “On the cards in front of you is a date in history, specifically American history. You must do a brief report on what happened that day. The kind of dry stuff that you’re going to find in history books. Then, either do interviews of people who were alive and witnessed the event whether in person or on TV or find stories of witnesses to the event.”

“How many?” Julie voiced before anyone else could, as she always did.

“Depends on the date,” Mrs. Ryan said. “For longer ago dates, like those from the early days of the US’s existence I’m requiring at least two but would like four or five. For more recent history, like late last century and into this, I want to see ten. You have all year, but don’t wait until the last minute. I want to see a preliminary report and a list of names of people whose stories you want to tell at the end of September.” She cleared her throat. “And for any dates from the early 80’s to now, I would be happy to be one of anyone’s stories.”

“Why do we need the preliminary stuff done by then?” asked John Poe.

“So that I can direct anyone needing assistance or witnesses in the direction of someone that can help,” Mrs. Ryan replied. “Any more questions?”

Sean Reagan raised his hand. “I’m not sure if I will…” he trailed off.

Parker’s stern teaching stance melted away and she spoke softly to him. “I’ve been told about the recent changes in your life,” she said. “See me after class if you think you’ll need extra help.”

He nodded as Mrs. Ryan went back into teacher mode. “Now, Julie, you turn over your card and tell me what you have so I can write it down.”

“It’s random?” she asked as the rest of the class moaned. The second week of school and Parker could tell Julie wanted to be the teacher’s pet.

“Yes,” she told the girl. “I did not choose who gets what. What’s your date?” She picked up a note book and wrote Julie’s name on the first line.

“July 16, 1969,” Julie said.

Mrs. Parker wrote it on the line followed by ‘moon landing.’ “Kyle Davenport.”

“December 7, 1941.” Parker wrote the date then Pearl Harbor down.

“Junie Ericson.”

“April 14, 1865.” Parker nodded and wrote it down with Lincoln assassination.

“Alex Maybelline.”

“January 28, 1986.” Challenger disaster.

“Carol Morgan.”

“November 9, 1989.” Berlin Wall.

“John Poe.”

“November 22, 1963.” JFK assassination.

She had eighteen students and she wrote down seventeen names, dates and incidents. The very last student, Sean Reagan, turned over his card and swallowed. Parker closed her eyes and looked down at her notebook. She wrote the date after his name before he could speak; without a descriptor, for the date didn’t need one.

“September 11, 2001.”

The room fell silent for a few minutes before the bell rang signaling the end of the class and day. “Chapter two read by tomorrow,” she said over the students gathering their books. “We will be discussing the Mayflower compact as a precursor to the Constitution!”

She closed her notebook and started to go around the desk she had been leaning on when she noticed Sean gathering his books slowly. When the room had emptied, and he stood before her, she spoke. “You OK with that date?”

“I wasn’t even born when it happened,” Sean answered. “But my family was there.”

“They were?”

“My dad and my grandfather and an uncle that has since died.,” he said. “Were in the towers, but they never talk about it. Except to say that they were there.”

“What did they do?”

“They’re with the NYPD,” Sean told her.

“Oh,” she said, then, “OH. As in Commissioner Reagan.”

“Only, he was a Chief then,” Sean replied.

Parker nodded. “Normally, I wouldn’t do this, but do you want to pick another date?” She grabbed the rest of the stack of cards. “With what’s going on in your family, I’ll understand.”

Sean shook his head. “I think they can handle it if I wait until later in the school year to do the interviews,” he said. “But my mom…” he trailed off.

Parker patted his shoulder. “What about her?”

“She was a nurse.” he told her. “She told us about it.”

“If you want to use her story,” Parker said. “Or your uncle’s, you can do so by telling it in the video yourself.”

“If it comes to that,” he told her. “I will.”

“Is there anything else?”

Sean nodded. “Would you be one of my stories?”

A look of panic crossed Parker’s face then she cleared her throat. “I lost my husband that day,” she told him as she unconsciously fiddled with her bare left ring finger. “I almost lost my own life.”

“You were in the towers?”

Parker looked like she was far away for a moment then focused back on him. “Yes,” she said. “I debated on whether or not to include that date, but figured we could all learn from any stories gleaned.” She leaned forward. “And I’m glad you got it because you are in a position to get some very interesting stories.” She straightened back up. “But I’ve never told my story of that day before.”

“I can find someone else,” Sean said. “If it would be too hard.”

“It’ll be hard,” she said. “But it needs to be done.” She smiled. “If you can do it, then I can. Just let me know when.”

 

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Sunday, October 22, 2017

 

“Does anybody have anything that didn’t get covered during the main course?” Henry asked as he served himself a piece of the cake that Erin had brought for dessert.

“I do,” Sean said.

Sean had been unusually quiet the last few Sundays, as if his thoughts had been elsewhere. “Go ahead,” Frank told him.

“I have an assignment for school,” Sean told them. “I have to interview people and get video about their story on a day in history.”

“That sounds interesting,” Nikki said. “What date?”

Sean looked uncomfortable and cleared his throat. “September 11th.”

Silence.

“What’s the assignment?” Jack asked, trying to act like the announcement hadn’t been uncomfortable for the adults in the assembled group.

Sean pulled out the assignment sheet and handed it to Henry. Henry read it aloud to everyone before looking up at his family.

“When’s it due?” Frank asked.

“May,” Sean replied. “It’s a presentation. And everyone I ask to be in the video is invited to come see it presented.”

“That leaves me out,” Nikki said. “I just remember that everyone was sad all the time.”

“That’s more than me,” Jack put in. “I was just a baby.”

Sean looked to the rest of the family. “I’m in,” Jamie said. “I was at college at Harvard.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Erin said.

“I saw it out the window of the hospital when Betty was sick,” Henry said. “I’m in.”

“I have a story,” Frank said. “Let me know when.”

Sean looked to his father. “Dad?”

Danny grasped his son’s shoulder then rubbed the back of his head. “Of course I’ll help, Seannie,” he said. “Whenever you want to do it.”

 

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Francis X. Reagan

 

“I was in the North Tower with John McKenna,” was all Frank would say about where he was on 9/11.

He never said anything else about who lived or who died, who he saved or who he couldn’t save. Just, “I was in the North Tower.”

Then his youngest grandson asked him to tell part of his story.

There were so many things he could tell him.

He’d helped so many people out of the buildings and he could still see their dust covered faces over the bandana he had tied over his mouth and nose to keep it at bay. He and John had, together, led people, helped people and carried people from the North Tower as it burned above them.

The one who stuck out was the one they had saved last. The one they had been carrying when the North Tower crumbled around them. He’d glimpsed her several times before the South Tower went down. She was in civilian clothing and had a camera around her neck, but she helped all the same. She led people down, talked people into leaving and comforted those who were frightened. After the South Tower went down, coughing through the smoke and the dust, he and John had found her on their way out in a stairwell that had partially collapsed. 

He had no idea how far up they had been, but she was covered in dust and bleeding so profusely from a cut on her head that her face was covered in blood. She couldn’t walk and told them to leave her, as if resigned to the death that awaited her. But Frank pulled a linen handkerchief from his pocket that Mary had embroidered his initials into and told her to cover her nose and mouth with it. Carefully, John had helped him pick her up and together, the three of them made their way out of the building.

The trio made it to a large, decorative pillar down the street as the tower fell, and took refuge behind it from the smoke, dust and debris that rained down upon them. Once the billowing clouds had dissipated, they made their way to the nearby church where they were certain they would find someone to take care of the injured woman in their care.

“Did you?” Sean asked as the camera recorded.

“We did,” Frank replied with a smile to his grandson. “We passed her off to them and stayed with her to make sure she would be OK.” He looked thoughtful. “Your grandmother didn’t even get mad when I made it home without the handkerchief.”

“How long were you there?”

“A long time,” came the reply. “The first day or two, we were helping people to the medical personnel. They even dug some survivors out of a stairwell.”

“WOW,” Sean said. “Did you ever see that woman again?”

Frank shook his head. “No,” he said. “I never did.”

“What if you ran into her,” Sean asked. “What would you do?”

“I would ask her if she was OK,” Frank said. “And tell her I was glad we could get her out.” He paused to take a breath that he hoped would keep tears at bay. “And I would tell her about the man that helped me rescue her. John McKenna.”

Sean was silent as Frank gave him a sad smile. After a few more seconds of silence, Sean looked around his grandfather’s office. “You know,” he said. “You didn’t have to wear your uniform for this.”

“I wore the uniform because I was wearing one that day,” Frank said from the couch in front of the window that showed a glorious view of the New York skyline. “It might not have been this particular uniform, but it was an NYPD uniform.”

Sean nodded and shut the camera off. “Thanks for telling your story, grandpa,” he said.

Frank to another deep breath and stood. “This has been a trying year,” he said as he unbuttoned the jacket to his uniform. “But I think you did a good job with your interview.”

“Thanks, Grandpa,” Sean replied.

 

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Daniel F. Reagan

 

“OK, kiddo,” Danny said from the bench in the park near their new home. “What do you want to know?”

Sean shrugged and pushed the button to start the camera recording. “The facts that we know, like the when and where and how, is the stuff from the history books. The dry stuff. My teacher wants me to get the stories of the people who were alive that day and witness to it.”

“Well, I was witness to it,” Danny replied. He pointed to the medals on his dress uniform and touched the black one with the letters WTC. “This says I was.”

“Could you state your name and job to begin?”

“Sure. I am Sean’s father, Detective Daniel Fitzgerald Reagan and I am a detective for the 54th precinct.

“Where were you on September 11th 2001?”

“Well, I started out in the lobby of the South Tower,” he told his son. “Helping people out.” He paused. “I knew that Dad was there somewhere.” He paused again. “But I found myself teaming up with your Uncle Joe.”

“I didn’t know that,” Sean said. “Did you rescue a lot of people?”

“No more or less than anyone else,” Danny replied. “I remember as the towers fell, people were just running. Everything and everyone was covered in the dust from the buildings.” He looked thoughtful. “At one point, I saw a… well, I think it was a woman covered with dust as she was, I couldn’t tell for sure. She was near a building and I was running from a cloud of dust. So I grabbed her and pulled her into an alley, covering both of our heads as best as I could to protect us from the cloud coming at us. When the biggest part of it went by, I let her go and headed off to find Dad and Joe.”

“You never said anything to her?”

Danny shook his head. “My only thought was to get her out of harm’s way,” he said. “When the danger had passed, my thoughts turned to finding my own family. With everything going on, I didn’t think she was in any more danger, so I left her to find her own way out.”

“What would you say if you met her again?”

Danny thought for a moment. “First, I’d apologize for leaving her so abruptly like that,” he said. “Then I’d tell her I was thankful she was OK.”

“Did you find Grandpa and Joe?”

“Well, Joe was right around the corner, helping a man with a cut leg,” he told his son. “Together, we picked him up and took him to St Paul’s Chapel.”

“Where was Grandpa?”

“We found him at the chapel,” Danny replied. “He had carried a woman hurt in the North Tower there. It kind of became a staging area for those who needed to go to a hospital. Later on, it turned into a refuge.”

“From what?”

“The pile,” Danny replied. “There were so many people working on the pile and they went to the chapel to rest, eat and take refuge from the world outside.”

“What else did you do that day?”

“Well,” Danny began. “We led people to where they could find their way across the bridges, which were closed to incoming traffic. We helped people with serious injuries to where they could get medical attention.” He shrugged. “We just helped.”

Sean nodded. “Were many people scared?”

“There was a lot of fear,” Danny said. “But there was a lot of pride, too.”

“Pride?”

Danny nodded. “Pride in the police and the firemen. Pride in our city and our country.” He smiled. “There were flags everywhere.”

Sean smiled back. “Sounds like something you might always remember.”

“The good things,” Danny said. “Like the support, the heroism. The people we lost and are still losing… those are the things to remember.” He swiped at a tear that had formed at the corner of one eye. “The sight of the people who were up there with no way out that jumped or were hanging out the windows for one last breath of fresh air, the second plane hitting then the towers falling… that is something I would like to forget.”

They both fell silent for awhile. “Anything else?” Danny finally asked.

Sean blinked. “Tell me about mom on that day,” he said quietly.

Danny breathed and screwed up his lips as if trying to remember. “Your mom,” he began. “She had taken off work when Jack was born the year before, but when she was needed, she went to the hospital and helped out.” He leaned forward. “She had been heading in to Manhattan for an appointment when the first had hit. When the towers fell, she helped shelter a group of kids from a daycare in the car. She couldn’t use the car to get out, so she just walked in.” He paused. “I was surprised when I brought a group of survivors to the church and she was there.”

“Where was Jack?”

“She had left him with Mom for the appointment,” Danny told his son. “So she knew he was safe.” He paused to shake his head. “I hugged her so hard when I realized it was her.” He snorted. “She was so relieved I was OK and Joe and dad were OK that she didn’t even care that we were filthy.”

Sean chuckled. “I can almost see that.”

Danny smiled a sad smile. “She helped a lot that day.”

Sean nodded. “Thanks dad,” he said and reached up to turn off the camera.

 

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Poppy Ann Morgan

 

“Your teacher assigned you to interview me about 9/11,” Poppy said as she led Sean through the CBS This Morning studio. “I wasn’t here then.”

“Well,” Sean started. “I want to hear where you were and what you were doing that day. She wants stories and even people who weren’t here have to have stories.”

Poppy gestured to the camera and tripod he held. “On camera.” Sean nodded. “OK.” Sean smiled and Poppy gestured to the news set. “Let’s go out there,” she said and led him out.

He set up the camera and tripod on one side of the table and Poppy sat in a chair on the other, the CBS logo behind her. “Is this OK?”

“It’s great,” Sean said. “Kind of gives a feeling of where you are now while you talk about where you were then.” He started the camera. “I want to start with your name and occupation.”

“My name is Poppy Ann Morgan and I am a set producer for CBS This Morning,” she said.

Sean nodded and looked down at his notes. “Where were you on September 11th, 2001?”

“I was in Cheyenne Wyoming,” she replied. “I worked in the master control room at KGWN TV 5. Also CBS. I was working and going for my degree at Laramie County Community College.”

“What do you remember about that day?”

Poppy blinked and leaned back in her chair. “I had worked the swing shift the night before—until 1 a.m., so I was still in bed. I was living in my parents’ basement at the time, saving money for my own place. My mom stomped to wake me then yelled down the stairs.” Poppy stopped to look at the ceiling.

She squeezed her eyes shut and a tear rolled down her cheek where she wiped it away. “She yelled down at me and it sounded for all the world like she had yelled that the world was ending.” She sniffed. “But the nightmare on the TV when I came up was not to be forgotten…and not far off.” 

“What did you do?”

Poppy looked at him. “My job,” she said. “After my classes, which mostly got cancelled, I went to work and did my job.” She sniffed before going on. “I went in and had nothing to do. The ongoing special report meant that there were no commercials to run. The shows that I had to record couldn’t be sent since a lot of them came from the antenna at the top of the North Tower.” She fiddled with her finger briefly before going on. “So I sat there and made sure the signal didn’t go down.” She shrugged. “I felt like I was here, and in DC, and in Shanksville. Just because I was watching it on five little screens.” She looked up at Sean. “I did not step foot in this city until five years after that. But, because I had watched so much of it, I had always felt like I had been here that day.”

Sean nodded when she paused to take a drink from her water bottle. “We sent food and blankets, shoes for the search dogs, and blood for the wounded. People traveled here to spell the men who worked on the pile and cheer them up and remind them that there would still be life on the other side.” She shook her head. “Even when we had no more to send,” she went on. “We sent our prayers.”

“Do you ever talk about it?”

“Every so often,” Poppy said. “Someone will ask. And I will say. And they will say. And we will cry and go back to our life.” She leaned forward. “And we are thankful we have a life to go back to.”

Sean nodded and turned off the camera. “Thank you, Miss Morgan.”

“Oh, it’s Poppy,” the woman said. “If you need any more help, let me know. And tell your dad hey for me, will ya?”

Sean nodded an affirmation and began to pack up his gear.

 

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Erin Reagan (Boyle)

 

“My name is Erin Reagan, at that time Reagan-Boyle, and I am a Manhattan ADA,” Erin began after Sean started the camera. “On that day, I had decided to keep Nikki out of school since she had a cold and dropped her with Mom. I was driving into Manhattan to take a deposition. I saw the first plane hit off in the distance and gasped.” She shook her head as she sat in her office. “I pulled over to turn on the radio, and they were talking about it, but they didn’t know anything just yet. I sat there listening to the radio and watching the burning tower for what seemed like forever until I heard the scream of the second plane and watched it hit the second tower. That’s when I knew it wasn’t an accident.”

“What did you do?”

“I turned around and went back to the house,” Erin said. “Grandpa was at the hospital with Grandma Betty. She had been fighting something all summer and had been taken in for pneumonia after Sunday dinner. Dad, Joe and Danny were down at Ground Zero and your mom left saying she was headed in to St Benjamin’s where she had been working before Jack was born to see if she could be of any help. She’d had some kind of appointment but figured that it had been canceled.” Erin shrugged. “We felt helpless for the better part of the day. We didn’t know if any of the men were dead or alive until we got word from Lynda at Ground Zero. Uncle Jack had gotten through to let us know he was OK and just staying put at the office. We also got a call through to your Uncle Jamie up at Harvard. He wanted to drive down, but we thought we talked him into waiting.”

“He drove down anyway?”

Erin nodded. “He showed up the next morning,” she said. “Everyone was at the house. Dad, Danny and Joe went in, but mom, Lynda and I gathered together some extra blankets and clothing to take in to Ground Zero for the men there. We also cooked lots of food to feed them. Everyone in the neighborhood had made something and we left the kids with Linda while we took everything in. Your mom tried to stay away from Manhattan after that since she’d had confirmation for why she had been going in the day of…”

Sean was intrigued. “What was she confirming?”

“That you were coming,” Erin said with a smile. “The one ray of light in all that gloom was the knowledge that another member of the family would soon be joining us.”

Sean smiled and wiped away a tear. “How long was everyone at the house?”  
“Until Sunday,” Erin replied. “We went in to church and had Sunday Dinner as usual. Then we all went home.”

“What about Grandma Betty?”

“She got to come home on Friday and it seemed like she was going to be OK,” Erin said. “But with everything in the air,” Erin shrugged. “She was never able to shake it completely and she died in early December after a third bout of pneumonia.” Erin grunted. “Grandpa considers her the only casualty in our family of 9/11.”

“Is there anything else?”

“That’s all I remember,” Erin replied. “I’m sorry if it wasn’t all that interesting.”

Sean shrugged. “It’s your story,” he said. “I thought you told it perfectly.” He turned off the camera.

 

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Henry Reagan

 

Henry sat back in his favorite chair as Sean set up the video equipment. “How’s it been going?” he asked.

“Not bad,” Sean replied. “I’ve been getting some interesting stories.”

“Isn’t that what the assignment is?”

Sean finished and looked up at his great-grandfather. “Yeah,” the young man replied. 

“Have I told you how proud I am of you winning that contest?”

Sean shrugged. “Once or twice,” he replied. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Henry told him and Sean hit the record button.

“First tell me your name and what you do then start about where you were on September 11th 2001?”

“My name is Henry Reagan. I am retired from the police department and a former police commissioner. I’m afraid my story isn’t as interesting as others might be,” Henry began. “That summer Betty had been catching every cold that came along until in early September she got bronchitis. The Sunday before, she got really sick and, with Linda’s help, we finally talked her into going to the hospital where they told us she had pneumonia.”

“Did you sit with her the whole week?”

“I came home for a change of clothes and to make her dinner,” he answered. “That was on Monday. On Tuesday morning I gave her some breakfast and had just cleared the dishes away when I was looking out over Manhattan. The room she was in had a great view of the towers but that morning, I saw smoke coming from the North Tower so I turned on the TV to find out what was going on.” He fell silent.

“What did you see on the TV?”

“They described the crash,” Henry said. “They thought it was just some freak accident for awhile and then…” he trailed off.

“Then what?”

“Then the second plane hit the South Tower. Betty and I were horrified,” Henry said. “They thought it might be a terrorist attack, but didn’t want to say for sure until the news came through about the Pentagon.” He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I knew some people who worked in the Pentagon.” He ran a hand through his hair and put his glasses back on. “They were grounding all air traffic but one plane…” He trailed off to shake his head. “One plane was still missing.” He paused. “It wasn’t until after the south tower came down that we heard about the crash of Flight 93.”

“Did you try to call anyone?”

“The minute the second plane crashed, I called home,” Henry replied. “Mary had been trying to get somebody at any precinct near the towers with no luck but Erin and the kids were safe and there.” He stopped to look at Sean. “Your mom headed to St Benjamin’s to see if they needed her help.” He smiled. “Of course that was before she knew you were coming.”

“Aunt Erin and Dad both said that mom was heading to an appointment,” Sean interjected.

Henry looked thoughtful. “I don’t know about that, but she was at the hospital almost all day and before she went to leave, she fainted. They did some tests and she was pregnant.”

“With me,” Sean said.

“With you,” Henry replied. “That was the best thing that happened all week.”

“Is there anything else?”

“Just that Mary and the girls took meals to the church all week,” Henry said. “But they stopped by the hospital and brought us meals, too.”

“That’s cool,” Sean said.

“Then your great-grandma died in December,” Henry told him. “They let her out of the hospital, but she was in and out until she finally passed in December.” He looked thoughtful. “I don’t know if it was the smoke and crud in the air or just the stress of it all, but I do know that Betty was the only casualty of that day in this family.”

Sean was silent. “I wish I could have known her,” he said finally.

“I wish you could have, too,” Henry replied.

Sean shut off the camera.

 

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Parker Elizabeth Ryan

 

Sean finished setting up the camera in his history classroom and looked up at Miss Ryan as she stood before him. In front of her on the desk was a wooden box.

“You ready?” Sean asked.

She took a deep breath. “As I’ll ever be,” she said and Sean started the camera.

“What’s in the box?” Sean asked first.

“Mementos from that day,” Parker replied. “I haven’t been in this box since I put Alan’s ring in it about three months after the date. They found his body and were able to identify it that way.”

“Why were you there?”

“Alan, my husband, and I had an early breakfast at Windows on the World,” she replied. “Alan worked at Cantor Fitzgerald, but we had never been to the restaurant so I took my camera with a fresh roll of film to take pictures.”

“Did you get some good ones?”

“I don’t know,” she replied. “I could never bring myself to get the film developed.” She tapped the box. “So I put it in there.”

Sean nodded. “Go on if you can.”

Parker swallowed then did just that. “I left at about 8:30 and took the elevator,” she said. “I was going to go all the way down but as soon as the elevator started down, I realized I had to go to the bathroom. I pushed a button for a floor we hadn’t passed just yet and got off. I had barely finished and was getting ready to get back on the elevator when the plane hit. We felt the building shake and looked out the window to see if we could see what was happening. Smoke was billowing from the building above us, but we didn’t know what was going on. Then somebody smelled the jet fuel.”

“What did you do?”

“Some people were unsure, so I told everybody the best course of action was to start down the stairs,” Parker said. “The whole time, I was silently praying that Alan would be OK.” She opened the box and took out a roll of film. “I took pictures, knowing that the day was to live in history, even though I didn’t yet know what had happened or what would happen.” She handed the roll to him. “Why don’t you go get them developed?”

“Sure,” Sean said as he took it. “What happened next?”

She shrugged. “We started down the stairs. I don’t even know how much time passed before we heard and felt the other plane crash. We ran out onto the 50th floor to look out the window in time to see the cloud of fire blossom from the South Tower above us.” She fiddled with the latch on the box. “We started going faster on our journey down, but I stopped on every floor to make sure everyone was leaving and no one needed help. We kept seeing firefighters going up and carrying hoses to fight the fire above us. We even ran across a cop or two. When the South Tower fell, we felt the building we were in shake and the lights flashed. I kept checking each floor and somehow ended up alone…” she looked up at Sean. “Now this is where it gets kind of fuzzy. I think I was only five or so floors from the lobby when a piece of something from above broke loose and slammed into me.” She lifted a piece of her hair to show a long scar along her hairline. “It cut my head good and broke my hip. I thought I was dead then and there…”

“But you’re here,” Sean said.

“I wouldn’t be if I hadn’t been discovered by two men,” she said. “One of them had a bandanna covering his face and he gave me a handkerchief to cover mine.” She pulled a dirty cloth stained with blood from the box. “He picked me up and carried me out where we were able to take cover in time for the North Tower to fall.”

Sean took the cloth from her hands and examined a bit with embroidery. He fingered it carefully, sweeping his thumb over the initials that were so familiar to him. FXR. He handed it back.

“I had blood coming from my head and running into my eyes and I couldn’t walk so they took me to the church…,” she stopped. “St. Paul’s chapel. From there, I went to St. Benjamin’s Hospital.” She looked far off. “I remember a woman cleaning my cut and talking about her infant son…” She shook her head and looked at Sean who had a funny look on his face. “What?”

Sean shook his head as if to shake off the memories of the day. “If you could meet the people who saved you,” he began. “What would you say?”

“Face to face?” she asked and Sean nodded. “I’d thank them for saving my life.”

Sean smiled at her. “What else is in the box?”

“My camera,” she said as she pulled the item out. “I think it might have taken one last picture after I got hit. It’s broken beyond repair.”

Next she pulled out a pair of rings bound together by a ribbon. One was blackened while the other bent into an oval. “These are our wedding bands. Both were damaged.” Sean nodded as she took one last thing out. The badge was bent and tarnished. “This came off one of the men who saved me. I found it in my lap at the hospital.” She paused as Sean fingered the surface of the object. The number on its face was not familiar to Sean, but he thought he might know who it had belonged to. “I thought about trying to find them,” she went on. “To return the badge and the handkerchief, but I didn’t know if I had the strength to open the box again, let alone do such a search.” 

“You obviously found that strength,” Sean pointed out. He was on the verge of tears, but held them at bay. “Is there anything you want to add?”

“Just let me know how much the film costs,” she replied as she carefully replaced the items in the box. “And I’ll reimburse you.”

Sean nodded and turned the camera off.

 

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Jameson Reagan

 

“My name is Jameson Reagan and I am a patrol officer for the NYPD,” Jamie began then began to tell his tale.

“I’d been studying late the night before,” Jamie said. “It was the first major test of the year. I was asleep when the news came on so my roommate woke me to tell me. I thought he was joking until he dragged me to the TV in the common room where the whole dorm was watching it.”

“When did you get through to Grandma?”

“I don’t know,” Jamie replied with a shake of his head. He fiddled with some paperwork on his desk. Like Danny and Frank, Jamie was in his dress uniform. “It felt like it had been hours, but in actuality had just been barely one.”

“I wanted to do something, to, to drive down and help wherever I could, but mom told me to stay where I was and keep calm. Donate blood,” he looked up at the camera. “I felt helpless and even the blood drive didn’t make me feel helpful, so I jumped in my car and started down. I went the long way around through New Jersey and drove without stopping until I got home just after dark.” He stopped to clear his throat. “Dad, Danny and Joe got there not five minutes later. They were covered with sweat and dust and grime… and even a bit of blood. But they were safe and home.”

“How long did you stay?”

“Just under two weeks,” Jamie replied. “Classes were cancelled for the rest of the week and part of the next so I stayed through the second Sunday, then drove back up.”

“How were things when you went back up?”

“People were in shock,” Jamie told him. “A lot of my fellow students knew people or had family in New York. We all just felt helpless.”

“Did you do anything to feel less helpless?”

“We gathered blankets and food and other donations and a group of us drove down to get the stuff to mom and the groups that needed it,” Jamie replied.

“Thanks, Uncle Jamie,” Sean said. “How did you do on that test?”

“It got canceled,” Jamie replied.

Sean nodded and turned off the camera.

“My story probably wasn’t as exciting as Dad’s story or Danny’s,” Jamie went on as Eddie joined them.

“That’s the point though,” Sean pointed out. “Everyone’s got a story.”

“Aren’t you a little over-dressed for work?” Eddie asked her partner.

“The family is helping Sean with an assignment,” Jamie said and he nodded to his nephew as he began unbuttoning his dress jacket.

“What about?”

Sean looked at her. “Where were you on 9/11?” He started. “I need some more stories. Would you…?”

Eddie took a step back. “I don’t want to think about that day, much less tell about it.”

“Why not?” Jamie asked.

“Too sad,” she replied. “Besides, I’m obviously not dressed for it.” She waved her hand to Jamie’s dress uniform.

“You don’t have to wear your dress blues,” Jamie said. “I just did because Dad and Danny did.”

“We can go somewhere quiet,” Sean said. “And if you change your mind, I’ll stop the recording.”

She looked at Sean’s earnestness and Jamie’s curious gaze and gave in. “Alright,” she said. “We can do it in the box if it’s not in use.”

 

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Edit “Eddie” Marie Janko

 

“My name is Edit Marie Janko,” she began hesitantly. “But everyone calls me Eddie.”

“I was starting my senior year in high school,” Eddie went on, uncomfortable in the confines of the box. She had insisted that if she did this, she would only do it in private. So here they were. In the windowless room in the heart of the 12th precinct.

“We had just started our second class of the day when we heard this loud boom and the windows rattled. We kind of looked at each other, trying to figure out what had happened, when someone ran in and told the teacher something. He was in a panic and the teacher… I think it was Mrs. Barnes… had to calm him before she could understand.” 

Eddie scrunched her face, trying to remember something she had wanted to forget. “My high school was close enough to the World Trade Center that we were affected, but not so close that damage was caused to the building when it went down, so-to-speak.” She took a breath. “We were told to shelter in place for the moment. At the time, we thought it was just a plane crash. But when the second plane crashed, we knew it wasn’t.” She looked at Sean. “Can we stop for a minute?”

Sean nodded his head and stopped the recording. “You OK?” he asked her.

She breathed once and looked up at Jamie as he stood next the Sean. “I want to tell you something,” she said. “My favorite aunt died in the South Tower. They found an …” she stopped, trying not to cry. “They found one of her arms.” She shook her head. “That’s all. Just an arm.”

“My god, Eddie!” Jamie exclaimed and came forward to grab her hand. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?!”

She released Jamie’s hand and signaled Sean to start recording again so he hit the button. “I couldn’t even talk about it for the longest time.”

“What happened after you were told to shelter in place?” Sean asked. 

Eddie swallowed and went on. “We were moved to the rooms on the opposite side of the building from the towers and they explained what was going on. Many kids had family who worked in the Towers. Like my aunt.” She stopped to swipe at tears in her eyes and Sean pulled a box of tissue from the camera bag to hand to her. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose before going on.

“It seemed like forever before they made the decision to let us go home,” she said. “Most of us were standing in the schoolyard when the South Tower fell. Aunt Maja was working for an insurance company I can’t remember the name of on one of the upper floors. I just stared. Watched in horror. Somehow, at that moment, I knew I was watching her die.”

She paused to wipe her eyes and nose again. “They herded those of us still there back into the school, but I avoided them by hiding under the stairs. I came out of the hiding place in time to see the second tower fall.” Jamie took her hand again and she looked up at him as if to thank him. “I just started running. It took me awhile before I realized I was running towards where the towers once stood. Only they weren’t there anymore.”

“Where did you end up?” Sean asked.

“It wasn’t until I was surrounded by the dust from the towers,” she said. “That I stopped running. It was so quiet. The people around me were walking out and I almost thought they were zombies. People killed in the collapse but had come back to roam the earth and eat brains.” She shook her head. “Not funny, I know, but I tried to search their faces to see if any of them were Maja, but she wasn’t there.” She looked up at Sean. “I ended up at the church…”

“St Paul’s Chapel?”

Eddie nodded. “I was screaming for Maja and just sobbing when a cop grabbed my arm,” she said. “He asked me my name and I told him. He told me his name, but in my state of mind, I didn’t remember it.” She shook her head with her nose wrinkled. “He was so filthy I don’t think I could recognize him clean if he slapped me across the face. But he was kind and he took me around and showed me that Aunt Maja wasn’t there. He offered to walk me back to school as maybe she had made it out and went there for me, but I told him I could walk back myself and he was needed there.”

“He insisted, though, and walked me the distance to my school where Mrs. Barnes was looking for me.” She cleared her throat and swallowed the knot there before she went on. “The officer told my teacher his name, but I was in my own nightmare world and didn’t hear what he said that time either. Or I just forgot since.” She released Jamie’s hand to take a swig from the water bottle on the table next to her. She took a deep breath and went on. “I seem to remember raiding the snack machines to send back to the chapel so they would have something to eat.” She shook her head. “The rest of the day was like a fog. Mom and Dad came for me and we drove up to stay a few days with friends in Boston. It was almost four months later that they identified Aunt Maja’s arm. That was all. Just her arm.”

She pulled herself back into the now and sat up straight. “What else do you want to know?”

“They guy who found you,” Sean said. “What would you say to him?”

She seemed to mull the question over for a minute. “I’d thank him,” she said. “For more than just helping me that day.”

“What else would you thank him for?”

“Where I am,” she said. “He told me about how practically his whole family had been cops. And how he was glad he was one because it meant he got to help people like me. To be there for them… and me on that day of all days.” She nodded briskly. “That was what made me decide to be a cop.”

“Wow,” Jamie said. “You never told me that.”

“Well,” Eddie went on. “After my dad was arrested for the Ponzi scheme, I thought it would never happen, but here I am.”

Sean smiled. “That’s a great ending to a very sad story.” He turned the camera off.

 

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Joseph Conor Reagan

 

“So how’s your project going?” Nikki asked Sean.

“I’m short a subjects, but I’m going to film Detective Baker’s story Tuesday afternoon while we’re out for the in-service day,” Sean replied.

Henry suddenly looked up at Frank. “What did you do with Joe’s journals?”

Frank looked at Sean. “Didn’t you say your teacher said you could use your mom’s story?” 

Sean nodded since he had his mouth full then swallowed the food. “She did, but I’ve heard enough from the rest of the family to cover her story.” He shrugged. “To tell it again when everyone was so good with it would be a waste.”

Frank nodded. “Joe’s story is in his journal. Remind me after dinner and I’ll find it for you.”

After dinner, Frank led his youngest grandchild to Joe’s old room and opened the top drawer of the dresser there. He lifted a leather bound book from the drawer and handed it to him. “I didn’t find this until after he died,” Frank told him. “On days he thought were important, he would fill so many pages with detail. This book,” he gestured to the volume he had just given Sean. “Is just about that day.”

Sean flipped through it to find that every page was filled with his uncle’s neat writing. “Wow,” he breathed. “Have you read it?”

“Some of it,” he replied.

“I don’t know if I can use all this.”

“You don’t have to read the whole thing on camera,” Frank said. “But there are some interesting stories in there from that day.”

Sean nodded. “I’ll check it out,” he said. “Thanks Grandpa.”

“You’re welcome,” Frank replied.

 

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“Are you ever going to turn the light out?” Jack asked his brother.

“I’m almost done,” Sean replied. He glanced at the clock to see that it was almost midnight. “OK, I’m done now.”

“What is so interesting?” Jack asked as Sean flipped the lamp off.

“Uncle Joe’s journal,” he replied.

“What did he have to say?”

“There’s a lot of stuff about that day,” Sean said. “But I think I know what passage I’m going to use.”

“You need any help with it?”

“Yeah,” Sean replied. “I could use some help.” He sat up to peer through the darkness at his older brother. “It’s due Friday and I’ll still need to edit it.” 

“Go to sleep and we’ll figure out something tomorrow,” Jack ordered.

 

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Sean finished fiddling with the camera and locked it down to frame Jack the way he wanted to be framed himself.

“I coulda done that,” Jack told him.

“I know,” Sean replied. “But I’m kind of particular about how I want this done.”

Jack nodded as he looked into the tiny screen. “It looks perfect,” he said. “So you’re just going to record yourself reading the story at his grave?”

“No, I’m going to record a voiceover tomorrow morning to put over some footage of Joe that the producer has over at CBS This Morning, Poppy Morgan, that dad sent me to,” he told him. “I’m just going to do an intro here.”

“Then I take it you’re ready,” Jack said. Sean nodded and Jack started the camera recording.

“Not everybody with a story about 9/11 is here to tell it,” Sean began. “Like my Uncle Joe.” He touched his uncle’s gravestone before he went on. “Some died from various illnesses associated with the debris scattered throughout Manhattan that day. More victims of the tragedy. Some, like my uncle, were killed or died for other reasons. Joe was part of the New York Police Department and he was killed eight years after that day in the line of duty.” He stopped to hold up the journal. “But he left us his story. This volume is Joseph Reagan’s 9/11. In reading the pages, I found his view of my grandfather’s story and my father’s story and even a bit of the story my mom might have told had she still been here. I haven’t the time to read the whole thing for you, but I found a story in it that I thought you would find interesting.” He paused to let the hand with the book fall back to his side. “I want to thank Poppy Morgan and the team at CBS This Morning for helping me with the voiceover and finding footage and pictures of my Uncle Joe on that day.” He fell silent then nodded for his brother to turn off the camera.

“That was great,” Jack told him. “When do you do the voiceover?”

“Tomorrow morning after the show gets over,” Sean replied.

 

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_September 11, 2001. Morning breakfast, most important meal of the day, Joe wrote on the first page of his new journal. Two eggs, four sausage, two toaster waffles and a cream-filled donut with sprinkles. I get the feeling I’m going to need it. Weather: clear and sunny. 7:30 a.m. and I predict a wonderful day…_

Joe closed the volume and set the pen down before heading out to his job as a NYPD police detective. Later, he would reflect on the words that began what should have been a regular, ordinary day.

What seemed like a lifetime later, Joe stood in front of St Paul’s Chapel, covered in dust and looking out to where the World Trade Center Towers had been. He took a deep breath through the protection of the dust mask he wore but could still smell the smoke. In the moment of respite, he heard a girl calling out.

“Aunt Maja!” she yelled, sobbing. “I’m here! Please don’t be dead!”

Joe grabbed her arm. “Are you OK?”

She looked at him, tears streaking across her dirty face. “I’m looking for my Aunt Maja,” she told him. “She works in the South Tower.”

Joe could tell that she hadn’t been there when things came down, but he wasn’t about to leave her. “Let’s go take a look around and see if we can find her,” Joe told her.

She nodded furiously and Joe pushed an errant blond hair behind her ear. “What was her name?”

“Maja,” the girl replied pronouncing it Ma-ya. “Her name is Maja Janko.”

“What’s your name?”

“Edit,” she replied. “But everyone calls me Eddie.”

Joe took her hand a led her into the church. “How old are you Eddie?”

“Seventeen,” she replied.

“I take it you go to the high school down the road?”

She nodded. “Do you think my Aunt Maja was here?”

Joe nodded and debated his next words carefully. He didn’t want to say that she might be dead. “If she was hurt,” he said. “She probably would have come through here.” He stopped next to his sister-in-law. “Linda,” he got her attention.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“Has a Maja Janko been through here?”

Linda looked at her list and Eddie piped up, “She would have spelled it M-A-J-A,” she told the nurse, on the verge of tears. “It’s Serbian.”

“I’ll look for that spelling, too,” she smiled at her. She flipped through the pages and didn’t find the name. “I don’t see it here.”

“Maybe she was OK and went to find you at school,” Joe suggested. “It’s not far.”

Eddie nodded furiously and turned to leave. “Let me walk you back,” Joe said.

“You don’t have to do that,” Eddie said. “You’re needed here.”

“I could use the break,” he replied so Eddie nodded.

Walking in silence, Joe escorted the girl back towards her school. “My dad was in the North Tower when it started coming down,” Joe told her. “But he made it out.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Joe replied. “He’s a cop, too. And my brother.” He paused for a few steps. “My other brother is going to school to be a lawyer, but my grandfather was a cop, too.”

“That’s cool,” Eddie said. “Did you go that way because you wanted to or because it was expected?”

“Oh, I wanted to,” Joe said. “I wanted to help people the way that they do and did. Help people like you.”

“I want to help people,” Eddie said.

“That’s good,” Joe replied. “I hope you do. I’m glad I was here for you, today of all days.”

They talked for the remainder of their walk. Eddie told Joe about her mom and dad and Joe spoke about his job. When they made it back to the school, Eddie’s teacher ran out and pulled her into a relieved embrace.

“Edit Marie Janko,” she said as she pushed the girl away. “Where did you go?”

“She was just looking for her Aunt Maja,” Joe told the teacher. “She’s OK.”

“Thank you,” she replied. “For bringing her back.”

“I just pointed out that her Aunt Maja would probably be looking here for her,” Joe said.

“That’s true.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Barnes,” Eddie said.

“You OK now?” Joe asked.

Eddie nodded and watched as Joe walked away.

Mrs. Barnes turned to lead her back into the school and Eddie stopped. “Does someone have a key to the snack machines?”

“I think Principal Dawson does,” her teacher told her. “Why?”

“I have an idea,” Eddie replied as she let Mrs. Dawson lead her back into the school.

 

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“A couple of hours after I got back to the chapel,” Sean read from his uncle’s journal. “Two janitors from the school came to the chapel with a couple of ball bins full of food, water and soda. It seems the girl had thought of a way to help US by raiding every snack machine in the school building and sending it down to us with every bottle of water they could find. I’m going to have to send that school a thank you letter.”

Sean closed the journal as Poppy gave him a thumbs up. He came out of the sound booth and into the control room.

“It sounds great,” Poppy said. “That was a cool story.”

“You don’t know just how cool,” Sean told her.

“Oh yeah?” Poppy said as one of the technicians handed her a USB drive. She gave it to Sean. “This has all of the audio you just recorded plus the video we found for you.”

“There will be more than one surprise,” Sean said.

Poppy looked thoughtful. “Do you think anyone would mind if we send a news crew over for the presentation?”

Sean looked surprised. “It’s just a school project!”

Poppy nodded. “I know but the PC will be there, and I think the surprises you spoke of would make a great human interest story for the show.”

“You’d have to call my teacher,” Sean said. “And my grandfather.”

Poppy nodded. “If they don’t like that idea, you should still film it to get the audience reactions to your surprises.”

“I’ll think about it,” Sean replied.

 

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Abigail Baker

 

Detective Baker sat at the conference table and adjusted the jacket of her dress uniform as Sean finished with the camera.

“Are you sure that Grandpa isn’t going to be back for awhile?” he asked.

“He has meetings all afternoon,” she replied.

“Good,” Sean replied. “Because I have been dying to tell someone about what I have discovered and how I plan to put my project together.”

“You couldn’t tell your family?”

“I want to surprise them with it,” Sean replied with a shake of his head. “Some of the stories circle around and connect.”

“Interesting,” Baker said. “Do you want to talk about it now, or after we finish with my story?”

“After,” Sean replied. He pressed the button to start the recording. “If you could please state your name and job first.

She nodded. “My name is Abigail Baker and I am a detective and personal assistant to the Police Commissioner.”

“Where were you on 9/11?”

“I was at Ground Zero,” she said. “I was just out of my probationary period so I was the one that ran errands. The radios weren’t working well, so I went back and forth between the towers with messages for the various commanders in both the police and fire departments.” She looked thoughtful for a minute before going on. “When the South Tower fell, I saw someone grab a confused woman and duck into an alley with her, so I followed them into the cover. When the cloud cleared he took off before I could even see who it was but was able to point the woman in the direction of the bridge.” She stopped at Sean’s funny look.

“I headed to the North tower where I was told to get as many people as possible and get them heading away from the complex,” she went on. “The injured people were being triaged at the chapel so I took anyone that had serious injuries there. Somewhere in there I met your grandfather and John McKenna as they were getting people out. Frank was carrying a woman whose face was covered with blood and John had me follow in case they needed more help. Just as we exited the North Tower, it started to collapse so we took cover behind a pillar.” Sean made another face.

Abby shook it off and went on. “I followed them to the chapel and watched them go in. I stayed outside so I could help direct people inside. I saw an officer stop a girl of about sixteen or seventeen at one point. She was in hysterics, but I left them when he clamed her down and took her in the chapel… and what is with the face?”

Sean hit the pause button. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Some of the stories have been crossing over. “I mean, most of my family told me that my mom found out she was pregnant with me that day, but the other stuff…” he shrugged. “The confused woman was pulled aside by my dad. He left intent on finding Grandpa and Joe. Grandpa told me the details about the rescue of the woman… who just happens to be the very teacher who gave me the assignment.” He shrugged. “And the girl in hysterics? That was Uncle Jamie’s partner, Eddie. Her Aunt Maja was working at the South Tower and was killed. Her school was not far away and she came down to look for her only to be found by my Uncle Joe. I read about that in a journal he kept.”

“Huh,” Baker said.

“Then, you come along and tie all of them together,” Sean finished. “That’s what is with the face.”

“All this is what you’ve discovered?” she asked and he nodded. “And you haven’t told anyone?”

“Not a soul except you,” he replied. “Not even Jack.”

“I think a few people are going to be shocked,” she said. “I’d almost want to have a film crew there.”

“Funny you should say that…” Sean told her about Poppy’s desire to have his project on the show.

“I could get with her and make the arrangements if you like,” Baker offered.

“As long as no one else minds,” Sean said. “I don’t either.”

 

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May 25, 2018

 

Sean was as nervous as he could be but he took a deep breath and asked his grandfather, “Would you come sit in the front row?”

Frank looked up at Danny and Jack as they stood nearby. They both shrugged as if they did not know why so Frank shrugged. “Sure.”

Mrs. Ryan was confused, too. “I hope this isn’t because of the news crew,” she said.

“No,” Sean replied. “It has to do with his story.”

Mrs. Ryan made her way to the podium on stage and past the table filled with 9/11 mementos as everyone else took a seat in the auditorium. “Our next and final presentation is by Sean Reagan. He has gathered stories from September 11th, 2001.”

Sean took a deep breath then stepped up to the podium. On a screen nearby, a slide show or 9/11 facts began as Sean read out the timeline relating them. When he finished, he said, “These are the facts of that day. But my assignment was to find the stories.” He paused to let his words sink in. “As I was doing my interviews, I got a few surprises, too. The stories intertwined in ways I never could have guessed or imagined. I also learned something important about my life.” He paused again. “On September 11th, when tragedy and death were all around, one little miracle happened in my family. My mother, Linda Reagan, found out that she was pregnant… with me.”

Amid the gasps of wonder from the group, he signaled for the video to start. He went to sit on the aisle across from his grandfather and next to Mrs. Ryan. The lights dimmed and the screen went bright with the title of his project. “Triumph and tragedy: Stories of 9/11.”

Sean had decided to start with the stories that did not occur at Ground Zero. Poppy, Henry, Erin and Jamie spoke on the screen and then came Detective Baker. Her story led into Joe’s and the images and film of him on that day as Sean’s voice told the story.

“Jamie, that’s…,” Eddie said softly as she pointed from her seat behind Sean when she saw the images of Joe covered with dust and debris and recognized him. Then, Sean’s voice spoke her Aunt Maja’s name and then Eddie’s name in the course of reading the story. Jamie looked at his fiancé in surprise as she gaped, so surprised herself that she had no idea what to say.

Eddie’s story came next, revealing the other half of the story of a seventeen-year-old girl who had just lost her favorite aunt. Mrs. Ryan looked at Sean, as did many others in the family. Sean, acutely aware of his family’s attention looked steadfastly at the screen as if he was not.

The next story was Danny’s. There he had put in a few pictures of his mother that day and as the pregnancy progressed, then of him and his mom shortly after he was born. Danny wiped away the tears as he felt a wave of pride in his youngest son.

After that section finished, the screen went black and the photos Parker had taken flashed on the screen as her voice described the morning. The view out the windows at the restaurant, a couple of her husband and one of them together played. Sean took a glance at his teacher to see the tears streaming down her cheeks so he grasped her hand and smiled when she looked his way. She smiled back and squeezed his hand before letting go.

The pictures changed to ones taken after the plane had hit of the stairs, the dust and the firemen going up as she told about getting people out. Then it went to her.

“Now this is where it gets kind of fuzzy,” she said. “I think I was only five or so floors from the lobby when a piece of something from above broke loose and slammed into me.” She lifted a piece of her hair to show a long scar along her hairline. “It cut my head good and broke my hip. I thought I was dead then and there…”

All of a sudden, it went to Frank. “I was in the North Tower with John McKenna,” he said. “The South Tower had collapsed and we were afraid the North would soon follow. We were going down the stairs when we found her. At first we thought she was dead. Her face was covered with blood and she didn’t move. Then she coughed so I hollered up to John, who was checking the door above, that I needed help. I handed her the handkerchief that Mary had embroidered to bring me luck. I guess it did. I told the woman to use it to cover her nose and mouth to breathe through.”

It switched back to Parker. “I wouldn’t be if I hadn’t been discovered by two men,” she said. “One of them had a bandanna covering his face and he gave me a handkerchief to cover mine.” She pulled a dirty cloth stained with blood from the box. Through the dirt and blood, you could almost make out Frank’s initials. “He picked me up and carried me out where we were able to take cover in time for the North Tower to fall.” There, Sean had put the last picture from her roll of film.

It was dark, slightly grainy and out-of-focus, but there was Frank, covered with dust and debris, a red bandanna tied around the lower half of his face, reaching out to help. Behind him, you could see the shadowy figure of John McKenna. Parker gasped and covered her mouth.

The audio played over it. “She protested, having resigned herself to certain death, but neither John nor I could leave her. With John’s help, I picked her up. We both winced when she cried out in pain and begged for us to go on without her. We refused of course.”

Frank’s present image returned to the screen as he described taking cover behind the pillar then, when all was clear, carrying her to St Paul’s Chapel.

Mrs. Ryan came back on the screen. “If you could meet the people who saved you,” Sean asked her. “What would you say?”

“Face to face?” she asked. “I’d thank them for saving my life.”

Then, Frank. “Did you ever see that woman again?”

Frank shook his head. “No,” he said. “I never did.”

“What if you ran into her,” Sean asked. “What would you do?”

“I would ask her if she was OK,” Frank said. “And tell her I was glad we could get her out.” He paused to take a breath. “And I would tell her about the man that helped me rescue her. John McKenna.”

The screen went dark and the lights came up and Sean stood to stand in the aisle between his grandfather and teacher. “Today I have the pleasure of introducing my teacher, Parker Ryan,” he held a hand out to her and she stood, tears streaming down her face. “To one of the men that saved her life that day. My grandfather, Frank Reagan.”

Frank stood and looked at Parker as she looked back at him.

“Thank you very much for saving my life that day,” she said, smiling through her tears.

“Are you OK?” Frank asked and she nodded furiously. “I’m glad we could get you out.” He stopped when she stepped forward and gave him a massive hug. Around them, the group in the auditorium, small though they were, gave thunderous applause… with not a dry eye in the house.

After what seemed a lifetime, she let him go and stepped back, but he still clung to her hand. “I want to tell you about my friend John McKenna,” he said.

“And I very much want to hear about him,” she replied.

Sean stopped them there. “I’m not done yet,” he said and handed the handkerchief and badge that he had retrieved from the box on the table to Parker. 

“Here,” Parker said. “Is the handkerchief you gave me that day; to cover my mouth and nose.” She held up the badge. “Where can I return this?”

Frank took it from her and ran his fingers over the cool metal. “I’m afraid you could only return this to his widow,” he told her. “John died from cancer caused by his time on the pile. He passed a few years ago.” He handed it back. “You keep it until then.”

Parker nodded through her tears and turned back to Sean. “I get the feeling that you are not quite finished with your report.

Sean nodded. “No, I’m not. I’m hoping no one is forgetting the kindness that my Uncle Joe displayed to a certain current NYPD officer years before she became an officer.”

He moved to Eddie’s side and pulled her from her seat. “She lost her Aunt Maja that day,” he said. “But thanks to my Uncle Joe, she gained not only a career, but a fiancé.” Eddie surprised him with a hug then she mussed his hair.

Sean stood in the aisle with a smile. “I guess the things I learned from all this would include that the world is a big place but can be awful small when tragedy is involved and that even from great tragedy like this city experienced that day, a seed can grow.” He shrugged. “It seems that that seed was me.”

 

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It was unusual for the family to be having a family dinner on a Friday, but here they were sitting at the dinner table, passing take-out around and being a family. 

“So what did you get on your project?” Jack asked his brother.

“Mrs. Ryan was so impressed with the final product,” Sean said. “That I got an A+.”

“You did such a great job on that,” Danny said as he gestured with his fork. “That all your other teachers should give you an A+ in their classes, too.”

“The one thing that really surprised me was that story from Joe’s journal,” Frank put it.

“It is a very small world,” Eddie agreed. “Jamie is always talking about him and it kind of made me sad that I would never get to meet him.” She stopped to take a bite of her potatoes. “Now it turns out that I had. And he changed the direction of my life!”

“And of course Abigail saw it all,” Henry put in.

“What did you do when you discovered all these things had happened?” Nikki asked.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Sean replied. “I knew it would come out with my presentation so I didn’t say anything to anyone… except Baker.”

“Why her?” Erin asked.

“Because I kept making faces when she was telling her story,” Sean said. “Every time she said something about someone else’s story, I would make a face and she asked me about it, so I told her. That and I was dying to tell someone.”

“She made arrangements for the news crew,” Frank said. “Didn’t she?”

Sean nodded and shoved a piece of his roll in his mouth. “They’ll be running it on Monday,” he said.

“And they want us there,” Frank told him. “Garrett called me about half an hour ago and said he’d gotten a call from Poppy. She wanted to arrange for the whole family to be on This Morning. And your teacher, too.”

“Really?”

Frank nodded. “It’s something we can all be proud of,” he said.

Henry clapped his hands with joy. “First you win the award on your essay and now this!”

Danny put his fork down and gave his son a side hug. “You know how proud your mom would be of you today?”

Sean blushed. “Yes,” he replied. He went on as his father released him. “Getting the award on my essay kind of prepared me for my project.”

“How so?” Henry asked.

“It showed me I could make a great speech with getting teary,” Sean replied.

 

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Epilogue

 

Molly McKenna finished drying the last dish and put the dishtowel down just as the doorbell rang. She let out a slow breath and walked through the living room to answer it. Upon opening the door she smiled broadly.

“Frank!” she said as she hugged the man at the door. “It’s been forever!”

“That it has,” Frank replied.

“What brings you to my door?” Molly asked as she stood aside to invite him in with a wave of her hand.

“I want to introduce you to someone,” Frank replied. He turned to the woman that Molly now noticed was behind him. “Before the story airs on Monday.”

“Story?” Molly was curious. What story would have to do with her?

Frank waved to the woman. “This is Parker Ryan,” he introduced her to Molly. “She is my grandson Sean’s history teacher.”

“I am very glad to meet you,” Parker said.

“As am I,” Molly replied as she shook the younger woman’s hand. She looked to Frank. “What’s going on, Frank?”

It was Parker who answered. “At the beginning of this school year I gave my students an assignment. I asked for them to find stories from days in history. They were to interview people and get their stories and make a video to tell the stories.” She paused with a glance to Frank. “Sean Reagan got 9/11.” 

Molly’s expression changed slightly and she looked at the ground. “What has this to do with me?” she asked when she looked back up at them.

Frank smiled at her. “Sean interviewed Mrs. Ryan. She lost her husband that day and was injured herself.”

“I was rescued by two police officers,” Parker put in. “Sean figured out who in the process of doing his project and I was able to meet one of them.” She watched as it dawned on Molly. “Commissioner Reagan was one of the officers. It seems that your husband was the other.” Parker pulled a photograph and the damaged badge from her purse and handed them to Molly. “I would like to thank you for allowing your vacation to be interrupted so that your husband, John McKenna, could be at the Trade Center when I needed him.”

Molly took the badge with shaking hands. She ran a finger along the numbers at the bottom. “He didn’t notice that he’d lost it for several days,” she said. “He hoped that they wouldn’t find it and think he had been a victim of the day. Then he got cancer and ended up a victim anyway.”

“I wish I could have given him my thanks in person,” Parker said as Molly took the photo and looked at it.

“What is this?” Molly asked.

“I had my camera with me that day,” Parker told her. “This was the very last picture it ever took.” She paused to swipe at a tear falling from her eye. “It is a picture of your husband and Commissioner Reagan coming to my rescue.”

“Oh,” Molly breathed. “Oh… Oh.” She let the tears flow and Parker put her arms around the woman and let her cry for the moment.

“I was so sorry to hear that your husband succumbed to one of the many cancers caused by the attack,” Parker told Molly as the older woman wiped away the tears.

“I am so glad that he could be of service to you,” Molly told her. “Your rescue was the one he remembered most often when people asked. He’d relate that story to anyone that would listen.”

Parker smiled. “I’m honored,” she said as she gripped Molly’s hand.

Molly waved a hand to the room. “How rude of me to not offer you two a seat,” she said. “Please. Come. Can I offer you some coffee? I just made a pot fresh.”

Frank and Parker settled themselves on the couch as she went back into the kitchen, returning after a few minutes with the coffee on a try. Once they were all comfortable with their cups, Molly looked at Frank.

“Now what is this about the story airing on Monday?” she asked.

Between Frank and Parker, they explained about Poppy and the invitation to be on CBS this morning. 

“From a student’s history project,” Molly said with a shake of her head. “I am looking forward to watching it.”

Parker smiled and took a sip from her cup. “I look forward to showing it to you,” she said. “I am hoping that Sean and the people in the video, and you of course…” she touched Molly’s hand. “Would agree to allow me to donate it to the 9/11 Memorial Museum. I am donating my box of mementos.”

Molly pulled the badge from her pocket and held it out to Parker. “Then you should take this, too.” Parker set her cup down and took it in her hand.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“That is where it belongs,” Molly replied. “Where others can remember that day… and John.”

Parker smiled and took her hand in hers, sandwiching the badge between them. “As you wish, Mrs. McKenna.”


End file.
